


The call of dragon's blood

by itzteegan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Anal Sex, Battle, Blood, Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Gay Sex, Intoxication, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 22:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzteegan/pseuds/itzteegan
Summary: After their first fight with a dragon, its blood calls to The Iron Bull in a way that nothing else does ...





	The call of dragon's blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vixiak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixiak/gifts).



> This is all Victoria Shulz's fault.

The air sparked, crackling with heat as the dragon reared its head, preparing for another strike. The party had nearly exhausted their various health potions, and Dorian had been busy throwing up barriers at every chance he got and even throwing out healing spells here and there, even though healing wasn’t his specialty. Blackwall was doing his level best to keep defences up, taking blows meant for other party members and shrugging off the hits, and Laurel Cadash was feeding arrows into the creature as fast as she could draw her bow. And The Bull, as always, was right in the midst of the battle, eyes turning red as his Reaver side took over, as he was pushed beyond his normal capabilities and tapped into his potential. Though he wasn’t alone on the field, it felt like it was just him and the dragon as he faced it down, greatsword in hand, a roar tearing from his throat as he shouted at it in Qunlat. It was on its last legs, but being a dragon, it wasn’t going down easy.

And The Bull wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lunging forward, he struck the dragon’s head with the pommel of his weapon, knocking the beast’s head to the side with the force of the hit before he buried the blade deep in its neck. If it hadn’t been so weakened from the fight, it would have been able to immediately counter The Bull’s attack, immediately flinging its massive skull and knocking him back, as it had once before. All breath had left him as he hit the ground, but the party had covered for him as he took a few moments to stand back up. This time, however, with such precious little stamina left, the dragon took his blade, letting out one final roar before it collapsed, its blood spilling onto the ground around them all.

And then it hit him. His nostrils flared as he took in the scent, rich in copper and that particular tang that was specifically _dragon_. He couldn’t really explain it, couldn’t put words to it, but something in it spoke to him, made his own blood _sing_ just to be near it, to smell it. His hand clenched his sword’s hilt harder as he tried to concentrate, tried to think beyond what his base instinct was demanding. He flinched, but barely, as a warm hand settled on his shoulder, head jerking to see that it was Dorian. He sucked in a breath, his brain feeling like it was swimming as he ground his teeth, trying to ground himself, pull him out of the primitive spiral that his body was demanding. His eye flicked over the rest of the field and took in the rest of the party, the way that Blackwall was moving a little more slowly, favouring one leg a little more than the other, holding his shoulder slightly slumped. He’d seen the hit he’d taken from one of the dragon’s legs, and while he’d seemingly brushed it off in the heat of battle, it was not as small a thing as he’d made it out to be. Laurel had a gash over one of her eyes from where one of the claws had caught her as she’d dove out of the way, just barely in time. It wasn’t deep, but as with any face wound, it bled like a motherfucker, and she’d spent the rest of the fight valiantly wiping away the blood just so she could aim properly. The Bull watched as they both leaned on each other, Laurel glancing their way to check on them, and he waved them off, letting them know that he and Dorian were fine and to not worry. Dorian was nigh spotless, and if The Bull was hurt, he didn’t feel it yet. Which was almost strange, considered how heightened it felt like his senses were, like the world was just a little bit more colourful than it had been.

He realised, then, that Dorian had been speaking, trying to get his attention. It was just so damned hard to hear over the blood furiously pumping in his ears, and so he had to reply, “Sorry, what did you say?”

His lover seemed a tad concerned as he asked again, “I said, are you alright? You seem a bit out of it. Did you hit your head?”

The Bull’s eyes flicked over to see Laurel and Blackwall starting to crest the ridge, watching them until they were just out of sight before he dropped his sword, his hand darting out to grab the mage and pull him close, crushing him with a kiss as his other hand tangled in his hair. Dorian would complain endlessly about it later, but for now he said nothing, could say nothing against the onslaught that was The Bull. His tongue breached his lips easily, claiming his mouth as he pulled his body flush with his. The pounding instinct that was screaming at him both lessened and increased, lessened because Dorian was so close, increased because all he wanted to do was bend the mage over …

Dorian gasped as he finally pulled away. “Here? Out in the open like this?”

He growled as he leaned over, his teeth grazing Dorian’s neck. “We took care of all the bandits in the area, Blackwall will be tending to his shoulder and his knee, and Harding will be fussing over Laurel. Nobody will miss us for a little while.”

The Bull watched as the gears and reasoning clicked in his head, his pupils widening as the lust started to take over. Good thing, because The Bull wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer, not with how much the dragon blood was affecting him. He couldn’t explain it, wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know, but it was like an aphrodisiac to him. Not that he had any problems getting it up or anything like that, but damn if this scent didn’t send him into overdrive. His fingers deftly worked the buckles and ties on Dorian’s clothes, stripping him down and tossing them to the side, in a pile of grass where blood _wasn’t_ pooling. He really would have rather just pull aside enough to fuck, but in the moment, with dragon’s blood filling his sinuses, he wanted to do this _right_ , and doing it right meant it was going to be a little messy. Oh he knew Dorian was going to complain _endlessly_ , but Maker be damned, this was going to be well worth it, he knew it.

After tossing his own clothes into the pile, he deftly worked his foot behind Dorian’s leg and tripped him up, catching him before lowering him to the ground. The mage smirked as he remarked, “Ah, ever the romantic, hmm? Wanting to fuck beside a dead dragon …”

“I’ll treat you to a nice time once we get back to Skyhold,” The Bull promised. “Oils, massage, silk sheets, the whole nine yards. But this … I _need_ this …” As he said the word _need_ , he ground his hard cock against Dorian’s, and suddenly the chatty mage had nothing more to say. Not for the moment, anyway, as he laid his head against the ground and moaned. Fuck, but this was an amazing sight, Dorian on the ground, next to the dragon, its blood still seeping into the ground next to them …

It was at that moment that gave The Bull an idea.

He’d initially thought to simply rut against his lover, even though he wanted more, but once the idea was in his head, he found he couldn’t get it out. Reaching over, he grabbed a handful of the blood, bringing it between them and slicking up his cock with it. Having the blood so close, touching his skin, it made him almost dizzy. But it was intoxicating in its own way, leaving him wanting more, and as he reached out to grab another handful, Dorian finally noticed what he was doing.

“What on earth … Bull, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“But you can’t use that!”

“Why not?”

Dorian stuttered, flustered as he finally put together, “It’s just … it’s _blood_ … why would you?”

He shrugged. “I want to fuck you, and I’d rather not fuck you dry. Why, you not like that idea?”

The mage groaned. “It’s going to get _everywhere_.”

The Bull chuckled. “I’ll wash it off of you.” Leaning down, The Bull licked a long strip up his neck, nipping at his earlobe before he murmured, “Do you know what dragon blood does to me?” When Dorian didn’t answer, he continued, “It feels _amazing_. Makes me feel like I’m buzzing, like I’m more than just alive. I feel _everything_ … every heartbeat, every vein as it pulses … and it makes me want _more_. It makes me want to feel more. More of _you_.” His teeth closed over the shell of Dorian’s ear as he slowly started to breach his lover, the mage beneath him impossibly still as he relaxed his body and welcomed the intrusion.

It took every ounce of willpower in The Bull to hold still after he fully sheathed himself, to allow Dorian the chance to fully relax so it would be enjoyable for them both. He’d found out that the poor mage was, unfortunately, not used to such considerate lovers, and so he always strove to doubly ensure that he was comfortable and that everything felt good to him. Even with the primal instincts shouting at him to continue, to claim him, he fought against it, Dorian’s wellbeing the only thing that helped him hold on to that shred of control. It wasn’t until his lover gripped his shoulders, his fingernails digging into the muscle as he ground out, “Move, damn you …” that The Bull finally let go.

There wasn’t much solid memory he had of what happened next, but what he did remember was drenched in blood and sweat and moans and movements. He snapped his hips hard, burying himself in Dorian, and the mage mewled receptively, clawing at him. It was hard and fast and messy, but damn if it didn’t feel _perfect_ , his senses simultaneously swimming and singing as he gave in. Dorian felt amazing around him, his tight heat enveloping him until that was almost all he felt. Closing his eye, gritting his teeth, his hand on Dorian’s shoulder, the blood sang to him a sweet melody, one that called to some deep, primitive part of The Bull, a part he didn’t really even want to acknowledge much, not outside of battle. As he thrust, he reached between them, enveloping Dorian’s cock in his massive hand, the still slick blood on his hand mixing with the slowly leaking fluids of his cock, creating a symphony of scent that assaulted him so strongly, he growled. This wasn’t like the red lyrium, whose audible song had a harsh tone about it, whose melodies was too syrupy sweet, like the trap it was laying was too obvious to miss. No, this was soft and gentle, and yet wild and invigorating, a tone that resonated with him, the very core of his being, driving him ever onward as he climbed that cliff, tossing him over as his lover shook beneath him in the throes of his own orgasm.

Coming down from the high, he realised that Dorian had been right … they were _very_ messy. It had been well worth it, no doubt about it, but … damn. There was no way they’d be able to simply redress and return to camp. His mind racing, he realised there was a small body of water nearby, one that the dragon had likely used as its own water supply, and so once the blood came back to his head and he felt a little more steady, he gathered their things with the one hand that wasn’t covered in blood and motioned to Dorian, who was just beginning to stand. “I promised to wash you off, didn’t I?”

He chuckled. “That you did. Although, I believe my hair is completely done for.”

The Bull rolled his eye. “Tragedy.”

Dorian huffed. “It is! The perfect hair doesn’t make itself, you know.”

Chuckling as they drew near to the water’s edge, The Bull pulled him close for one last kiss. “If you can’t salvage it, then I suppose you won’t be too mad if I do _this_ …” And with that, he placed a hand against Dorian’s chest and firmly pushed, sending the mage toppling into the water beside them. He let out a hearty laugh to see him glaring up at him from the water, dark hair now lank against his head. “Oh come on, I promised to get you clean, now you’ll _definitely_ be clean now.”

Somehow, the dark look that Dorian shot him was not that comforting, and The Bull made a mental note to swing by the marketplace to pick up some sweets. Unless, that is, he wanted to risk waking up that night with a burning tent …

And the dragon was the only source of fire he ever wanted to experience.

+

Later that night, as he settled into bed, there was a rustling at the door of his tent, and he curiously watched as Dorian stumbled in. “What, earlier wasn’t enough for you?”

Dorian chuckled. “You are insatiable, you know that?” The Bull shrugged, but didn’t answer as his lover laid down beside him, propping himself up on his arm as he gazed at him. “So, what _was_ that all about?”

“Hmm?”

“Oh don’t play coy with me. We killed a dragon, almost got ourselves killed, and suddenly you want to rip my clothes off and fuck me with its blood.” He laughed softly as he waved his other hand. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was as good as it was messy, and I know some people get rather … _randy_ … after a harrowing fight … but we’ve been through quite a few battles and none has ever gotten a reaction like _that_ out of you. So what is it?”

The Bull hummed as he seriously considered it, answering honestly, “I’m not quite sure. Just something in the blood, it speaks to me …” Looking over at Dorian, he told him, “You know, the Qunari hold dragons sacred. Well, as sacred as they hold anything. It’s speculated that at some point, long ago in our ancient line, they somehow added in some dragon to the mix. How true that is, I don’t know, but when I got to fight it, when I got to bury my blade in its neck …” He rambled off some words in Qunlat, unsure if Dorian would understand, but unable to truly express what he was feeling in any other way.

“That reminds me,” he began, “you shouted something in your language while we were fighting. What were you saying?”

“Well …” The Bull worked to suppress a chuckle as he explained, “… roughly translated, it means, ‘I will bring myself sexual pleasure later while thinking about this with great respect’.”

Dorian’s eyebrow quirked. “You shouted _that_ while it was breathing fire at us?”

The Bull couldn’t help but laugh. “Why, what did you think I was shouting?”

“I don’t know, some great Qunari battle cry, most likely.”

“How do you know it’s not?”

Dorian looked at him for a moment like he wasn’t quite sure if he was going to believe him or not before he shook his head. “Kaffas, Bull, you almost had me.” His fingertip trailed up his side, making The Bull shudder just slightly as it lightly grazed a couple of sensitive points. “Is this later enough?”

The Bull flashed him a positively wicked, gleaming grin. “It could be.” Pulling the mage to him, he only lamented the fact that this time, he would go without the singing blood.


End file.
